


fire in the north

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, reupload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:50:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: reupload for PickyStoryFanatic!!





	fire in the north

Night had long since fallen when Pidge's pony reared suddenly, almost flinging her into the muck.

She cried out and tightened the reins, struggling to get the startled animal under control. Her lantern clinked, throwing flickering shards of light into the mist.

"Who's there?" she shouted in the Common Tongue, drawing her bone dagger and leaping off her pony. Peering into the dusk, she looped an arm around Greenie's snorting muzzle and unhooked her lantern.

Two shapes stumbled onto the dirt track ahead of her. Pidge swallowed, knowing she was outnumbered if they were thieves.  
"Stop there!" she demanded, pointing her dagger warily at the figures.

"Please," came a breathless male reply from the taller shape. "You have to help us."

Pidge swung her lantern at the man, trying to make out his face in the darkness. He stepped forwards, hands spread in a pleading gesture. "We don't have much time. People are hunting us and we have to hide." His face was honest and open, with a snub nose and a heavy brow. He was much younger than she'd assumed - still just a boy.

"Who's hunting you?" asked Pidge, still cautious of thieves.  
This time the other one answered. "The Galra." He was breathing heavily, his expression panicked. "They've been chasing us across the moor for hours now. They'll be here any second."

Just then Pidge heard the sound of hunting dogs barking in the distance, way out over the bog. She stepped to the edge of the road and stared out into the drizzle. She was able to make out a hazy trail of bobbing torches, moving fast towards the road. They were still maybe two hundred spans away, but they'd catch up soon.

Pidge turned back towards the boys, seeing how they stooped with fatigue.

"Quick", she said. "Hide in the heather."

When the first Galra legionnaire hauled himself over the lip of the rock Pidge was mounted, serenely replacing the wick in her oil lantern.

"Where did they go?" the Galra snarled, grabbing Greenie's reins and brandishing his torch. He was clearly the cohort leader.  
Pidge looked down at him, doing her best to look stoic and unruffled.

"Them two whelps pelted past me down the barrow road", she grunted in her best northern accent, trying to look like a typical sullen tribesman. She hoped the grimy cloak and shaggy northern pony would help her look the part.

The Galra soldier frowned inscrutably at her for an unbearably long moment, then studied the muddy road for tracks.

Shit! thought Pidge, her skin tingling with fear. She hadn't thought about prints. Her mind racing, she forced herself to stand still and stroke her pony unconcernedly. Greenie snorted uneasily and pawed the sodden track.

Soldier after soldier appeared on the dark road, carrying flickering torches and wearing their imperial purple tunics. Dogs cast around, spit dangling from their lolling tongues. Pidge's palms were slick with sweat as she sat stock-still, watching one Galra spearman creep terrifyingly close to the heather bush where the boys hid.

Three steps and he'd be on top of them. Pidge gripped her dagger and reached for one of her necklaces.

Two steps. She fumbled for it under her cloak, scrabbling to find the right one.

One step. She clenched her fist around the amulet and hurriedly shouted a word in her mind. "Rith!"

Immediately, one of the dogs howled and loped down the barrow road, flinging mud in his wake. The other dogs were after him in a flash, baying and giving tongue. The Galra soldiers whooped and shouted, sprinting after the dogs with their shortswords drawn. The one holding her reins glared at her, then let her go and hurried after the others.

Breathing hard, Pidge turned her pony to watch them go. She sat there counting her heartbeats as long as she could. When they vanished into the mist Pidge dismounted and crouched beside the heather bush.

"It's safe", she said. "You can come out, they're gone."

The boys dragged themselves out from the tangled undergrowth, their mud-streaked faces showing identical expressions of incredulous relief. "Thank you", said the broader one. "You saved our lives."

"Why were the Galra chasing you?" asked Pidge. "Who are you two?"

"I'm Lance", said the thin-faced one, pushing back his hood to reveal closely-shorn, curly brown hair. He was lanky and mudstained, wearing a large tattered cloak with a bow and quiver strapped over his shoulders.  
"You can call me Hunk", said the other one, the broad honest-faced one. He wore his hair in the long southern style, tied back with a yellow fillet. He carried a round shield and a pilum, and wore the uniform of a Galra builder. He had clan tattoos on his cheekbones, two straight dark lines stretching from his hairline to below his brown eyes.

"We are... were... apprentices with the Galra engineers, in the fort just west of here," explained Lance. "Then our roommate accidentally opened an official Galra scroll. He found out something he really wasn't supposed to know. I don't know what it was. The Galra took him to the cells and ordered our execution, presuming that he told us. We managed to escape, but we lost our... acquaintance Keith on the way. He has to be somewhere in these hills. We need to f-"

"Before that", interrupted Hunk cautiously. "Thank you for saving us and all, sir, but we have no idea who you are."

Pidge bit her lip. "Okay. You can call me Pidge, and this is my moor-pony Greenie. I'm a wandering apothecary and botanist with no love for the Galra. I'll help anyone those purple bastards want dead, so I guess I'll let you two stick with me. Lance and Hunk, right?"

The boys nodded, grins beginning to show through the grime on their faces.

"Listen, the nearest settling is too far to make it tonight, but we can't stay here, not with the Galra combing these moors. I suggest we find some shelter in the next valley, make camp for the night and start searching for Keith in the morning. He won't have gone far, not in this mist."

Lance and Hunk exchanged glances, seeing the sense in what Pidge was saying.

"We've got a while to go yet," she continued. "Take some bread and ale from the saddlebag, and if you're tired you can take turns riding Greenie."

The three of them followed the winding road through the hills for hours, talking quietly. Pidge learned that Lance was from the southern lands far across the sea, sent to earn his place in the legion on the northern frontier. The north, he said, was too chilly for him but he liked the rain here, which he rarely got back home. He was training to be an aquarius, or aqueduct-builder, for the Galra legions in the north. If he earned his place he'd be designing the water systems in Galra forts all over the province.  
"I guess that's impossible now," he added glumly.

"Cheer up, Lance," said Hunk. "At least there's a chance the Galra got Keith."

Pidge glanced over, surprised. "I thought Keith was a friend of yours."  
Lance scowled. "That guy? Nah. Who'd be friends with him? He'so moody all the time, all he ever does is train."  
Pidge thought she detected a hint of envy in his voice.  
"He's probably breaking Shiro out of the cells as we speak," grumbled Hunk.  
"Shiro?"  
"Our bunkmate and cohort leader," said Hunk, biting into a lump of coarse bread as he walked. "We all love the guy, but Keith respects him the most. Gods, this bread is terrible! If this is what people eat outside the Galra settlements then I'm turning myself in."  
"You'd rather die than eat old bread?" inquired Pidge dryly. "Seems like a waste to me."  
"I'm passionate about food," said Hunk proudly. "I wanted to be the fort cook if the whole building thing didn't work out. With me feeding the troops, the North'd fall in no time."

Pidge fell silent and stared out into the dark.  
Hunk seemed to realise what he'd said. "Uh, sorry", he amended hastily. "Keep forgetting I'm not one of them anymore."  
"Aren't those clan tattoos, though?" Pidge asked. "On your cheekbones. The Garetiae?"  
"Yeah, my grandfather was a Garetiae tribesman. He gave me my tattoos before my dad could stop him. I was lucky to get into the legion with them, but I guess Galra soldiers with clan heritage aren't so rare anymore. Gotta assimilate, right?"

"Right," said Pidge, in a tone that ended the conversation. She ignored the twinge of old wounds and focused on leading Greenie, Lance and Hunk through the darkling rain-soaked hills.

All of them were exhausted when Pidge finally stopped and pointed at a thin trail, which branched from the road and vanished into the bog. "There's a cluster of rocks we can sleep at here," she said. "Shelter enough from the drizzle."  
She pulled the unwilling pony behind her along the trail, pulling her sleep-roll off her shoulder as she trudged, bleary-eyed. Lance and Hunk stumbled after her.

She reached the rocky overhang and threw herself down onto the ground, ready to pass out- except that she landed on something soft, something that sat up with a startled yell.  
Pidge screamed and recoiled, scrambling away from the rocks. Lance pulled out his bow and swiftly nocked an arrow.

"Who's there?" demanded Hunk, alarmed.

"...Hunk?" said an incredulous voice.

"Keith?!" exclaimed Hunk.

Keith stepped forward into the light of Pidge's lantern. He was shorter than the other two, but much taller than the diminutive Pidge. He had long black hair in a sort of mullet and alert black eyes, which were fixed suspiciously on her. She felt her stomach tie itself into knots under that intense gaze.

"How did you guys escape?" questioned Keith, baffled. "And who's he?"

"Keith, this is Pidge," said Hunk. "Pidge, this is Keith. We'll explain everything in the morning. I honestly think I might die if I don't sleep right now."

"Someone should take watch in case the Galra come back," suggested Keith. "I don't mind being first."

Reluctantly Pidge volunteered for second watch and untied her bedroll, spreading it under the shadow of the overhang between Hunk and Lance, who slept wrapped in their cloaks. She snuggled in, glad of the company on either side of her, despite usually doing better on her own. She figured she would keep her real reasons for helping Lance and Hunk to herself, at least for the time being. They didn't need to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Warm for the first time all day, she drifted off quickly and had the usual nightmare. Every night it was the same thing: a flat grey plain, a bloodstained hand, a ripped flag. A flash of Galra purple.

She was jolted out of sleep by Keith shaking her gently. "Your watch," he murmured, clearly dead on his feet. Pidge wiped her cheeks roughly and crawled out of the overhang, trying not to disturb Hunk.  
Keith lay down wordlessly with his back to her.

Wide awake now, Pidge bundled herself in her cloak and sat alone in the misty darkness. It was a new moon and she couldn't see any stars through the fog, but she guessed that dawn wasn't far off.  
It seemed likely now that Pidge would have to help Keith, Lance and Hunk rescue Shiro from the Galra, but how they would do that was beyond her. Galra forts were well guarded, with regular patrols around the perimeters and sentries at each gate. She should know - she'd tried to get into them often enough. It seemed to her like a suicide mission.

If she was honest with herself, that was fine with Pidge. She'd take any dangerous mission on if it meant getting closer to finding him.  
Maybe this fort was the one.  
Pidge allowed herself to imagine it: breaking into a prison cell to find the face she'd longed to see for so long gazing, amazed, back at her. It was too far-fetched, she knew. Thinking like that would only hurt her, as it was almost certain he had died long ago.

With that thought like lead in her chest, Pidge sat alone until dawn brightened the sky to the east. Rubbing her hands together to warm them, she took a swig from one of her glass vials and bit into an apple from her saddlebag. Mouth full of half-chewed apple, she nudged Keith with her booted toe.  
He awoke instantly, bright eyes taking her in from between the folds of his grimy cloak.  
"Wake the others", Pidge told him, loosening her bone dagger in its sheath.

It was time to get moving.

*********

"This is the worst idea ever," Hunk said. "This is worse than the time you guys took a bet to see who could draw a moustache on the centurion without getting caught."  
(Lance flashed Keith a dark look.)  
"Escape from a Galra fort who suddenly decide they want to kill us but noooo way if you want to disappear into the wilderness, because we're going back in."

"Pretty much," said Keith, taking a fishcake from Greenie's saddlebag. Pidge winced: she'd traded her bead necklace for those.

After everyone callously ate Pidge's hard-won supplies, it was time to prepare.  
Lance checked the head and fletching of each arrow, before sliding them into his quiver and carefully stringing his bow. Keith swung his bronze sword around gracefully before sheathing it at his hip.

Hunk simply knocked on his shield and grinned nervously.  
"Where did you say that channel was, Lance?" he asked.  
Lance puffed his chest out arrogantly. "The eastern bulwark", he answered with an eyebrow quirk, sliding a hand through his hair. "As an ex-aquarius apprentice, I know all the fort's waterways. With me on the squad, this'll be a-"

"We need to divide the roles", interrupted Keith. Lance visibly deflated.

"Lance, Pidge, you two follow the waterways into the camp", continued Keith. "You have to make your way into the gatehouse and cut the portcullis rope. Hunk and I will take out the guard at the gate and join you at the corner of third barrack from the east wall. Lance, you'll guard the door while Pidge and I make our way to the cells to retrieve Shiro. Hunk, you get to the gatehouse and make sure nobody cuts off our escape route. Once we have him, we'll make our way to the east gate. If anything goes wrong, Lance will make sure we can get back into the river. Got it?"

"Got it," replied Pidge determinedly. Keith glanced up at her, and she thought she saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes before he looked away.  
"Roger, boss-man", muttered Lance sarcastically, turning to pat Greenie.  
"We'll almost definitely die, but at least we'll all die as men," said Hunk with false optimism, looking a bit green.

"Okay, everyone. If we get split up, return here. Make sure you're not followed," Keith directed, rising from his crouch and taking off his cloak. Underneath he wore a sleeveless tattered red Galra-style tunic, belted at the waist, and black breeches. His arms were slim, densely muscled and covered with pale scars.

Pidge swallowed hard.

He cracked his knuckles and glanced searchingly around their rocky camp before striding up the bog trail. Pidge reluctantly removed her own cloak and draped it over Greenie, who grazed tied to a nearby blackened tree. Then she loosened up her shoulders and followed Keith at a steady lope.

Lance sighed resignedly and gave Greenie a last pat before he and Hunk set out.

It was still dark, and the mist had, if anything, gotten thicker. Pidge felt the thrum of adrenaline coursing through her as the group paced across the moors.  
It had been a long time since she'd done anything like this, but if anyone was accustomed to battle she was. She felt relatively confident as they crossed the boggy fields in the lightening dawn. The fort had to be a thousand span away, which would take them about half an hour at a jog to cross. The darkness and mist would be good cover.

She had her dagger for close-range combat and her talismans for... well, for whenever else she needed them. She hoped Lance could shoot as well as he thought he could. Keith seemed capable, as did Hunk. If they were Galra-trained she reckoned they'd be an efficient team, at least. It would be interesting to see how their legion training would measure up to her rather more chaotic Northern style.

Nobody spoke as they ran, and the only sounds were Hunk's panting and the eerie calls of marsh-birds. They were getting close now.  
Suddenly Keith signalled for everyone to crouch. They split up, Pidge heading to the bulwark with Lance and the other two disappearing into the tall grass to wait for the signal. The fort's torches cast thin, flickering highlights on the wattle walls.

Heart thumping in her chest, Pidge sneaked after Lance right up to the fort wall. The darkness made them almost invisible, but they didn't have much time before the camp was roused.  
Lance crouched by the wall and, with a grin, eased the metal grid aside on the channel entrance. "Come on baby," he whispered, placing it carefully in the reeds. "There she goes."  
Pidge hit him on the arm to shut him up.

Then Lance tucked in his pointy elbows and crawled into the tunnel, instantly drenching his front in the stream that flowed into the channel. It was just wide enough to accommodate the width of his shoulders - more than wide enough for tiny Pidge.  
She lowered herself into the cold brown stream and crawled in after him, already regretting agreeing to this.

After a long time squirming along the channel in the cold wet darkness, Pidge and Lance emerged into the camp's main cistern - a huge tin cauldron into which the boggy water flowed. They slithered into the deep vat with a splash, then swam to the edge and hauled themselves out. There was nobody around, so the pair of them could wring out their sodden clothes in peace.

The easy part was over.

Pidge drew her knife and went to the roughly-hewn door. She pulled the heavy woollen cloth aside, scanning the camp for guards. A pair of sentries strolled past, chatting quietly. Pidge watched them go intently, then motioned to Lance. The two of them slipped out of the cistern and ran to the corner of the barracks, leaning out to check the path ahead.

Nobody in sight. "There's the gatehouse," Lance hissed in her ear and sped off towards it, keeping low and close to the shadows. Pidge followed cautiously, her senses sharpened with tension.

They made it to the gatehouse and flattened themselves against the beams of the wall. There was a guard in the gatehouse and two on the wall above the gate.  
Pidge watched, her heart in her throat, as Lance crept up to the gatehouse door, mocked an arrow and pulled the door-cloth aside. A moment later the Galra guard crumpled to the floor inside the hut. Lance hurried inside.

Then it was Pidge's turn. She gripped her amulet and ran to the battlement steps, conscious of the rapidly lightening sky. Crouching in the shadows, she quickly came up with a word she hoped would work. Then she ran forward, grabbed the nearest guard and smacked him over the head with the hilt of her knife. He fell like a sack of rocks. With her other hand she pointed at the remaining guard, held the amulet and mentally screamed another word of power: "Léim!"  
The guard, without hesitation, stepped off the battlement and was gone.

Breathing heavily, Pidge grabbed a nearby torch and waved it. Two dark shapes far below melted out of the undergrowth and stepped forward. Lance must have cut the rope, as the drawbridge tilted open. Keith and Hunk ran into the fort, greeted by Pidge as she jumped off the steps.

"Pidge, with me," Keith hissed as he ran past her. Pidge kept pace with him as they made for the cells, followed closely by Lance. Hunk stayed behind anxiously in the gatehouse.

Other than flattening themselves against walls a few times to avoid the odd guard, they made it to the cell block without incident. Lance stayed at the door, arrow nocked, while Keith and Pidge descended into the cell pit where Shiro was being kept.

Keith led the way down the flagstone steps, listening hard. As far as he knew there were usually a pair of guards who took shifts here and would play the dice to amuse themselves.

There: he heard the clatter of bone dice on wood. There was laughter and a muttered curse. Keith peered around the corner, looking for Shiro, and accidentally caught the eye of one of the soldiers.  
Shit.  
Before the guard could say anything Keith ran forward and flipped him onto his back. The other guard cried out but Pidge hurriedly wrapped an arm around his throat and counted the seconds. He went limp, and she leaned him against the wall.

Keith was still taking care of the first guard, and didn't turn fast enough when a third guard ran around the corner. He slashed at Keith and it would have connected, but Pidge flung herself in the way. The guard's sword cut a shallow line across her collarbones, almost from one shoulder to the other.  
Pidge, seeing her chance, buried her dagger in him. He slumped to the ground, and Keith pocketed his keys.

"Thanks, Pidge," said Keith, then saw her pained expression. "You hurt?"  
"I'm fine," answered Pidge quietly. "Now where's Shiro?"

She followed Keith down the corridor, feeling thick warmth seep through the bindings on her chest. This was not good. The long cut over her collarbone was on fire.  
"Shiro?" whispered Keith, then she heard the jangling of keys. A cell creaked open and Keith ran inside. While he was occupied, Pidge checked every other cell. They were all empty save for one, which held a bloodied tribesman. He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. Pidge reached for the keys and unlocked his cell door, and he shouldered past her and ran off with a muttered thank you in her own tongue. Pidge shoved her diasppointment down, scowling.

"Help me with Shiro," said Keith, stepping out of the cell with a man draped over his shoulders.  
Pidge grabbed his other arm and they hurried back down the earthen corridor and out of the cell block.  
Lance greeted them, relieved.

"Where are the stables?" she whispered as they ducked into the shadows. Keith looked back at her with a spreading grin. "Good idea, Pidge," he muttered. "Let's go. Lance, go to the gatehouse with Hunk and make sure that gate stays open."

Lance hared off into the blue morning light towards the east gate. Carefully dragging Shiro, Keith and Pidge made for the stables. It was extremely difficult to balance Shiro's weight between them, as Keith was maybe two heads taller than her. Between Shiro's dead weight and Pidge's rapidly deteriorating wound, she suddenly wasn't sure if they'd make it out.

Gritting her teeth, she ploughed on. Again, the three of them had to lurk in the shadows whenever a patrol clanged past, but eventually they got to the stables. One unconscious guard and many tense minutes later they had three horses saddled and ready to go. Keith leapt on his and between them they manhandled Shiro up in front of him. Pidge took the other horse and tied the third one's reins to her saddle.

Then they were off, cantering through the camp. Patrols stopped and looked up at the sound of the horses, but Keith rode them down and split their ranks as they threw themselves out of his path. The eastern gate was still, fortunately, open, and Keith rode straight through with Shiro. Knowing their time was up, Pidge halted in front of the gatehouse and waited for Lance and Hunk to run out.  
The Galra soldiers had gotten over their shock and were running towards her. An arrow whistled past her head. Finally Lance leapt up behind Pidge and Hunk took the other horse, and they rode over the drawbridge at a gallop.

The three horses tore across the grassy moor and vanished in the morning fog.

******

Keith felt more alive than he had in a long time as the fresh horses flew over the plain.

They were finally out of range of the Galra arrows and were nearly at the boggy mountain pass where they'd made camp the night before. The sun had burned through the mist and it looked to be a clear, breezy day.  
They had Shiro and had escaped the Galra, at least for now. He smirked to himself at the thought of how they'd sneaked in right under their noses and taken Shiro back.

Their future now was unclear, but the important thing was that they were all safe. Shiro would wake up soon and tell them what to do.

As he rode, Keith found himself wondering about Pidge. He knew absolutely nothing about him, but Lance and Hunk seemed to trust the guy implicitly. Hunk, at least, was a good judge of character, so Keith supposed he must have his reasons.

Keith thought back to that urgent moment in the cells when he hadn't seen the third guard coming and Pidge had blocked the blow that might have killed him. He frowned. It would have been impossible for Pidge to raise his dagger fast enough to block a slash like that. Then he remembered his pain-filled expression as he finished off the third guard, and put two and two together. Pidge had taken the blow for him.

Keith slowed his horse and looked back at Pidge, just as he toppled sideways and fell into the tall grass.

Lance yelped and pulled on the reins, bringing his horse to a violent halt. Keith and Hunk stopped and jumped to the ground, running back to Pidge. He was lying slumped on the ground, pale as snow. Keith turned him over and found that his tunic was drenched with blood. His breathing was shallow and laboured and his golden eyes were glassy.

"Idiot!" said Keith, heart racing. "Why didn't you say you were injured?"  
Pidge sat up slowly, helped by Hunk. "I'm alright," he said with effort. "It's not deep. Let's make it back to camp and I'll patch myself up."

Keith helped Pidge back up on his horse and sat behind him in the saddle to make sure he wouldn't fall off again. Lance rode with Shiro, with Hunk bringing up the rear. As they wound their way up the hill road, Keith felt Pidge go limp in front of him. He had passed out from blood loss.

Keith ended up having to hug Pidge tightly to prevent him hitting the road. He was surprised at how small Pidge was as he lay against Keith's chest. Despite himself, Keith felt his face warming.

Fortunately, they arrived at the overhang where they'd slept that night. Keith dismounted, carefully lifted Pidge down and lay him on his bedroll. Lance and Hunk did the same for Shiro.

"So... what do we do now?" asked Hunk dubiously. "Wait for Shiro to wake up?"

"We should try to tend to Pidge," suggested Keith. "We all had first aid training in the Legion."

"What happened, anyway?" Lance demanded. "How did Pidge get hurt?"

Keith scowled. "He blocked a Galra guard who went for me in the cells."

"So it's your fault," accused Lance.

"My fault?! If you hadn't run when the Galra took Shiro we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"That's right, we'd be dead!"

"Guys, guys," interrupted Hunk, holding up his hands. "We have to help Pidge."

Keith and Lance glowered at each other as the three of them knelt over Pidge.  
"What do we do?" asked Lance. "Take off his tunic?"  
Keith almost choked. "It's ripped where the Galra cut him," he said hastily. "We can stop the bleeding through the rip."

Hunk widened the horizontal tear near the collar of Pidge's tunic. Underneath the skin was slick with blood. "Okay. Someone drip water on a cloth," he said.

Lance got to his feet and returned a moment later with a wet scrap of material. Hunk used it to wipe the blood from around Pidge's collarbones. The wound was shallow and had already scabbed in places, but that didn't make Keith feel any less guilty.

"Uhh... guys?" said Hunk. "Did Pidge tell either of you that he's a tribesman?"

"What?!" Lance crouched beside Hunk, who was pointing at the arrow-shaped tattoo that darkened the skin at the base of Pidge's neck.

Keith stared at it uncertainly. "What tribe is he from?"  
Hunk frowned. "I don't know the Galra name for them, but in the North they call them 'na hAltaidhe.' They were wiped out about a year ago."

"He told us that he was just a travelling apothecary," said Lance. "I guess now we know why he hates the Galra so much."

"That must be why he helped us," Hunk mused. "To get back at them."

"Get back at who?" came a bleary voice. Shiro had propped himself up on an elbow, looking curiously over at where they huddled around Pidge. He had a fresh cut over the bridge of his nose and bruise-like shadows under his dark eyes.

"Shiro!" Keith exclaimed and ran over to him. "How do you feel?"

"Terrible," he said, pushing a hand through his newly-whitened hair. "You guys rescued me? How did we get here?"

"We escaped, then sneaked back into the fort to get you," Lance answered proudly. "We wouldn't have done it without my sharp-shooting skills. They used to call me the Tailor because of how I get the needle into the pincushion." He mimed an arrow flying through the air and made a squelching noise.

"You shot, like, one guy," Keith pointed out. "Shiro, what happened after we escaped? What did they do to you?"

Shiro's brow furrowed. "I- I'm not sure. They beat me, tossed me into the cells for treason and gave me the traitor haircut. Then... Then she came... I think..."  
"Who?" pressed Keith.

"She said her name was Haggar. She interrogated me, but I told her nothing. Then I must have passed out. I don't remember."

"And what did that scroll say?" Keith questioned, his face more intent than ever. "What was so confidential that the Galra want us dead to silence us?"

Shiro looked gravely at them all. "It was an order straight from the Emperor."

"Lord Zarkon?" breathed Lance, wide-eyed.

"He's sick of living in relative peace with the Northern Clans. He ordered the centurion to kill some of his own soldiers during the night and frame the natives from the nearby town for the murders. Then the Galra were going to use that as an excuse to invade the North and kill every native they come across. They intend to sack and burn every village beyond the Wall, even if they surrender."

Lance, Hunk and Keith stared at Shiro speechlessly.

"But I discovered their plan. They assumed I'd tell you what I'd found out and decided to use us as the murders. They went after you three but you escaped and had to be hunted down. Me? They took me to the cells and beat the tar out of me for what I knew."

"And then we came and got you out," Keith murmured, eyes bright with anger. "They were gonna kill us and blame the northerners?"

He called the Galra a stream of filthy names.

"I know," said Shiro. "We have to warn the clans that the Galra are going to invade, and fast."

"How?" Hunk demanded. "The Wall is hundreds of miles away. It'll take us months to get there."  
"That's true," Shiro replied calmly. "But we'll get there much faster than they will. There are thousands of Galra and only four of us."

"Make that five," came a voice from behind them. Pidge had woken up and was kneeling on his bed-roll, calmly rummaging around in the pockets of his cloak. He stood up painfully. "I'm coming with you guys."

"Who are you?" Shiro asked warily, putting himself between Pidge and the others. "You're not Galra."  
"No, I'm Pidge," said Pidge, holding up a small vial. "I'm an apothecary."

"Pidge saved our asses, Shiro," said Hunk, seeing Shiro's caution. "If he was going to betray us to the Galra he would have done it when we were inside a Galra fortress."

"Plus," added Lance, "Did you see the way he took out those guards? He was all wa-tchah and then he went hoo-pow with a bit of-"  
"-Not to mention coming up with a plan to steal Galra horses right out from under them," volunteered Keith.

"I know the way to the Wall. And, uh, I can also speak the northern clan language," offered Pidge.

"Fine. You've convinced me, Pidge the apothecary," said Shiro warmly, holding out a hand. Pidge shook it. "Welcome to the team."

Pidge smiled tentatively. It was the first time Keith had seen his smile, or anything other than his usual worry or concentration. His heart skipped slightly.

*

Pidge rubbed one of his mysterious potions on his injury and bandaged himself up. "Thanks for washing it out, Hunk," he said gratefully, flashing Hunk another smile. Keith turned away.

They packed everything up and set out at noon. Shiro led on the black Galra horse, followed by Lance and Hunk, with a pony each, then Keith and Pidge on Greenie. Keith's face flamed where he sat behind Pidge.  
He had to sit with him until the next town, where they would trade some of Pidge's potions for supplies and a fifth horse. That was twelve miles away, so Keith would have to spend the best part of the day with his arms wrapped around the small apothecary. He almost wished he minded more.

The five of them rode out of the rocky hills and into a wooded valley. The mist of the past few days had lifted entirely, and the sun was dazzling before they entered the dappled shade of the forest. Now that they were far from the bleak, boggy moor, the five of them relaxed and their spirits lifted. They passed around a bottle of Pidge's ale.

Hunk and Pidge were engaged in casual conversation. Keith, as usual, kept to himself, but he was extremely conscious of the vibrations of Pidge's voice making his ribs buzz whenever he spoke. Since they had entered the shadow of the trees Pidge had seemed to become more alive...more aware, perhaps. He smiled more often now and was cynical and dry around Lance and Hunk. He was now telling Hunk about plants, and Keith found that he couldn't help but listen curiously.

"They have so many uses!" said Pidge excitedly, drawing another vial out of his pocket. "See this? Essence of marigold. Rub this on a cut or blister and it'll be gone in two days. And then there's..." he rummaged around in his cloak pockets, "this! Essence of plantain. No matter what's wrong with you, drink this and it'll cure it. Cool, right?"  
"...Right," said Hunk. "So how do you know so much about botany?"  
Pidge shrugged. "I just like trees," he said nonchalantly.

Keith got the feeling Pidge had a tendency to avoid every question he was asked.

They arrived at the settlement an hour or two later. It was little more than a collection of mud huts and a cabbage-patch. Shiro, Keith, Lance and Hunk stayed with the horses while Pidge went off, bottles clinking, to trade.

An extremely loud argument in the clan tongue later, Pidge came back scowling, leading a pony and carrying a bundle of supplies.

"What food did you get?" asked Hunk eagerly. "Any cheese? I'm dying for cheese."

"He ripped me off completely!" Pidge groused. "Now I have to start stewing my valeria all over again!"

"We're sorry, Pidge," said Shiro. "We really appreciate everything you've done for us. Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Don't worry about it," answered Pidge, grinning. "I'll call in my favours when I need 'em."  
He handed out everything he'd bought. "Okay... a bedroll each, some tinder and flint, three waterskins, some rope, bread, wine, turnips, a spare cloak, some bandages, dried meat, fish cakes and some cheese for Hunk. Oh, and a pony for Keith. Her name's Kaltenecker."

Keith took the reins and stroked the shaggy bay pony on the nose. "Kind of a mouthful... I think I'll call you Red," he said happily.

"We need to move on, and fast," said Shiro. "The Galra will be after us and we can't afford to wait around."

"We can't go to any more towns either," Pidge added. "I'm not giving them any excuses to hurt people."

"So we're on our own," sighed Hunk. "Gods, we're so screwed."

Now that Keith had Red, there was no need to sit with Pidge. He felt relieved but strangely disappointed, watching Pidge ride along chatting to Shiro.  
Lance and Hunk were deep in some pointless debate about whether or not it was possible to eat the entire round of cheese in one go.

"You just can't do it, Hunk!" argued Lance. "That much cheese would definitely kill you."

"I won't know until I try," Hunk countered. "Remember that time you bet that I couldn't eat ten heads of lettuce in twenty minutes? That's two minutes per head of lettuce and I did it in seventeen."

"You were sick all night!" protested Lance.

"I still won. And we all learned an important lesson: never bet against Hunk when there's food involved," he said proudly.

Keith rolled his eyes.

They rode all day, making their way steadily North. When dusk fell they pitched camp far from the road in the shade of a hawthorn tree. The horses grazed peacefully as the five of them built a small fire and shared some of the bread. As Pidge passed around the provisions, Keith noticed his grimace of pain.

"You need to change the dressing on your wound, Pidge," he said, toning down the sudden anxiety he felt.  
"You're right, Keith," said Shiro. "Help Pidge with the bandages while we unload the horses."

Keith's eyes widened. Him? Now? He shifted his weight nervously, unsure what to do.

Pidge sighed, tossed him the roll of linen bandages and flung himself on the ground by the fire opposite Keith. They were sitting, legs crossed, knees touching, before Keith knew what was happening. Pidge unbuckled his cloak and stretched the collar of his grimy tunic down over one freckled shoulder. Keith swallowed.

He leaned over and carefully loosened the knot that held Pidge's dressing together. The stained bandages came loose and he pulled them off, revealing Pidge's black clan tattoo. He glanced up cautiously. Pidge was gazing back at him with trusting golden eyes, as though he'd revealed a secret that Keith had to keep. Keith felt a stab of guilt, knowing that Lance and Hunk already knew.

Unrolling the bandages with unsteady hands, Keith avoided Pidge's gaze. The firelight cast flickering light on the two of them as they sat quietly. Pidge's upper chest was stained with blood and potion, discolouring the fair skin. Keith flushed and leaned away, reaching for a waterskin.

Biting his lip, Keith settled himself back in front of Pidge and dripped water onto some linen. Pidge flinched as he dabbed at the wound and Keith recoiled. "Sorry, sorry," he stammered. Pidge waved him away and shuffled closer, leaning towards him. Their knees were overlapping now.  
Keith finished cleaning the injury and began wrapping the bandages around Pidge's slender frame. His fingers and knuckles kept brushing the skin. Keith could feel his ears and the back of his neck getting hot. He reached around Pidge's back in order to finish binding the wound and felt Pidge's breath soft on his neck. Tying the knot in the hollow of Pidge's shoulder, Keith's hands faltered. Pidge reached up and finished the knot, his hands touching Keith's.

Leaning back with his face burning, Keith's gaze brushed Pidge's and glanced away. Pidge pulled his tunic back over his shoulder and thanked him. They both stood up fast and walked to separate ends of the camp, each finding some task to attend to. Fortunately, the others hadn't seemed to notice anything amiss.

Keith's heart was hammering and his breath was coming in unsteady huffs. He felt jumpy and weirdly excited, like he did after a battle.  
He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to stop his hand trembling.

Looking back at the camp, Keith saw that Pidge was calmly engaged in brushing Greenie, showing no indication of what had just happened. Hunk approached him and sat down, talking happily, and Pidge answered him with a smile. He didn't so much as glance over to where Keith stood.

Feeling suddenly despondent, Keith wondered if it had all just been his imagination.  
He scowled and sloped off alone into the darkening forest.

 

*********

 

Moving on the next day, Pidge kept replaying the bandage incident in her mind.  
Keith's dark eyes, the hush of his breath, the careful way he'd tended to her injury... they all kept flashing in her mind's eye. She'd scratch an itch on her shoulder and remember the feeling of Keith's hands lightly passing over her skin. She kept accidentally gazing at him, then turning away quickly when he looked up.

This was ridiculous, she told herself. She was on the run from the Galra Empire and Matt was still missing, but her mind was occupied with some boy? As the five of them passed from the forested valleys to the fells of the northern roads, she tried to crush her thoughts of him.

A good way of doing this was deciding to ask Shiro what she'd been working up the courage to ask him for two days now.

Mentally steeling herself, Pidge kicked Greenie's flanks and trotted up to where Shiro led the group on his black horse.

"Hey, Shiro," she said nervously. "Got a minute?"  
"'Course," answered Shiro, loosening his reins. "What do you need, Pidge?"

"I was wondering..." she began, then stuttered as her throat closed up. "I was wondering if you'd heard anything about a Galra prisoner. Taller than me, similar hair, poor eyesight? His name's Matt, or sometimes Maitiú, and I thought he might have passed through your fort at some point..."  
She trailed off, feeling stupid. "Of course, it's highly unlikely that-"

"Matt Holt?" asked Shiro. "Yeah I knew of him. He was a lot like you, actually."  
Pidge choked and stared at Shiro. "You... you knew him? How?" An incredulous grin spread over her face. "He's alive?!"

"The Galra put me in charge of prisoner rations for a week once," answered Shiro. "I gave him food every day and talked to him a little bit. The last I heard of him he'd been moved to another fort. Why?" Shiro looked intently at Pidge. "He's your brother, isn't he?"

Fighting hot tears, Pidge nodded eagerly. "How was he? Was he hurt? Did he... did he mention our father?"

"If I remember right, he had a cut on his jaw and a wound on his leg... it's hard to tell what he was talking about because he often slipped into the clan language, but he did talk about his family a good bit. I think your dad may be working in another Galra colony, I don't know where."  
Pidge felt the tears overflow down her cheeks and wiped them away impatiently. "Are you sure you don't know where he is now? You didn't overhear anything?"

Shiro considered it, his brow furrowed. "Now that you mention it..."

"What?" Pidge leaned in eagerly.

Shiro's gaze met hers. "When I was in the cells I heard the prisoner opposite me speaking in the clan language. I don't know many words, but I did pick up the words 'clansman' and 'run', and a name that sounded like Matt. If I'm guessing right, he may have escaped at some point. Other than that, Pidge, I don't know. I'm sorry."

Pidge was staring at him, her eyes alight with hope. "That's enough for me," she said. "If he escaped then he must have made his way to the Wall. I could find him among the clans..." she punched the air. "This is the closest I've been in months!"

Shiro was regarding Pidge uncertainly. "Listen, Pidge..."

"Yeah?" said Pidge, euphoric.

"Never mind. I hope you find your brother."

Pidge beamed at him, feeling lighter than she had in a long, long time.

*

Pidge's wildly happy mood proved to be infectious. Soon Lance was at his most energetic, incessantly challenging Keith to races and singing Galra marching chants at the top of his voice.

Shiro and Hunk were trying uneasily and unsuccessfully to shut him up, while Keith stared up at the sky, clearly trying to block it all out.

Pidge sang cheerfully along with Lance as she poked some valeria through the opening of a vial, trying to move in time with Greenie's pace to avoid being jostled.

"C'mon, Keith!" challenged Lance. "Bet you can't beat me to that tree-stump!"

"I'm not gonna race you," Keith replied crossly. "And shut up!"

"You know you can't win against me and Cynthia," retorted Lance proudly, patting his pony's shoulder. "We know each other too well."

"You got her yesterday," Keith pointed out with exasperation.

Lance placed a hand on his chest in mock outrage. "If you think that's not ample bonding time you must be a terrible rider."

Keith flushed slightly, finally rising to Lance's bait. "You wanna try me, aquarius?"

"You're gonna lose, mullet man!"

With that the two of them were off, dust clouds rising in their tracks as they urged their ponies to a gallop. Pidge watched them go, smirking, placing a mental bet on Keith.

Hunk groaned and ran an hand through his dark hair. "I knew this would happen. They've been like this ever since Keith arrived."

"We'll never make it to the Wall like this," Shiro sighed, head in hands. "Hot-headed idiots."

The pair of them vanished around a curve in the road, Keith already gaining on Lance. Pidge kicked Greenie to a trot, curious to see who would win. Shiro followed on his black mare, rubbing his wrist discontentedly.

Pidge rounded the bend in the wooded road to see Lance on the ground a few spans away, clutching his face and groaning. Keith was in a similar position not far off, except his foot was still caught in the stirrup and he was being dragged by his ambling, snorting Red.

Pidge burst out laughing, seeing the low-hanging branch that had clearly clotheslined them. "Dolts!" she wheezed, leaning back in the saddle to laugh harder.  
Shiro trotted up behind her, alarmed at Pidge's screeching, and smiled exasperatedly. "Get Keith down, will you?" He jumped to the ground and went to look after Lance.

Pidge wiped tears from her eyes and dismounted, jogging after the still-moving Keith. Something about his enraged face seen while upside down and moving at an excruciatingly slow speed only made Pidge laugh harder, clutching her sides.  
Soon she was doubled up, walking slowly after Keith as he receded, glaring up at her. Pidge's knees were so weak that she couldn't catch up, but that only made it funnier. Keith was blushing, brow furrowed, arms crossed, hair flowing upwards as he was dragged through the mud.  
Red just kept walking like a ploughhorse, making Keith the plough. He went over a rock, wincing as it travelled up his back and bumped his head. Finally Pidge, gasping for breath, managed to catch his foot and yank it out of the bronze stirrup. Keith slumped to the ground looking infuriated and Pidge fell to her knees beside him, face sore from laughing.

However, she sobered up slightly when she saw that Keith had a cut on his forehead where the branch had hit him. Still shaking with silent mirth, Pidge brushed back his hair and inspected the wound. It was a reckless move, and Pidge felt like she was balancing on a knife-point as she pressed a cool hand to Keith's flushed and bloodied face. She could feel Keith's eyes on her as they sat there on the road and struggled to keep her own cheeks from reddening.

Keith looked younger with his fringe held back and Pidge swallowed hard, rustling around in her bag for her plantain. "Rub this on it," she commanded, handing it to him. A chill ran through her when his hands clasped around hers to take it. "You know the drill."

Clearing her throat, Pidge stood up and brushed herself off before lunging for Red's reins and handing them to Keith.  
She grinned at him, sitting there in the mud, blood dripping onto the bridge of his nose.  
"You're a right tit, Keith."

She expected him to scowl, push himself to his feet and stalk off, but instead he gave her one of his soft, sardonic smiles. Pidge began to worry she was going into cardiac arrest.

"I know, Pidge," Keith said mock-resignedly, mouth twisting up at the sides.

Pidge offered him her hand and he took it, pulling on it until he was standing. He was so much taller than her that she had to tilt her head right back to look him in the eye.

Unable to bear it any longer, Pidge turned and helped Shiro with Lance, who was whining that his face was ruined, before swinging herself up onto her pony.

Screaming internally at how sweet Keith was, Pidge kicked Greenie into a trot, grinning like an idiot.

This was getting ridiculous.

*

They stopped at a small forest pond, letting the horses rest and graze as they stretched themselves out on the bank.  
Keith lay in the tall grass next to Pidge, which gave her an odd tingle in the pit of her stomach. She rolled over and gazed at him.

His eyes were closed, and the expression he wore was softer than she'd ever seen it. His hair lay in shiny clumps, framing his now-bruised face, and she suddenly longed to comb her fingers through it. Even if it was a mullet.  
And then Pidge was noticing everything: the curve of his throat, the swell of his lips, the dark fan of lashes.  
The dappled green light fell in bright swaying circles over him, passing over his Adam's apple and the rise and fall of his chest.  
His hands were interlaced over his ribs, slender and veined with healing scabs on the knuckles. Just looking at them, Pidge could feel their cautious, gentle touch at the base of her neck, see his dark eyes lifting to meet hers.  
Those dark eyes scrunched shut, then opened. As though he felt her gaze Keith looked up at the trees, then turned his head and looked into her eyes. He seemed surprised to find her staring at him, naturally enough, and Pidge rolled back over fast, face burning. She didn't look at Keith again.

On her other side was Shiro, who sat up with a serene expression, watching the breeze ripple the pond's surface. Pidge was happy to see him look so relaxed, after all he'd been through. The scar over his nose was still a livid, angry red, and he moved slowly, as though every inch of his skin ached. His right arm especially seemed to be paining him, as Pidge had seen him rub it several times with a clouded expression on his face. She didn't doubt that under his dusty traveller's cloak he was purpled with bruises, but even though she'd offered the night before he wouldn't let her heal them.

Worried about him, Pidge let her eyes drift closed again. She could hear the buzzing of insects and the quiet lapping of the pond, as well as Lance's muffled humming. The boy seemed utterly incapable of sitting still and being quiet, unlike the stoic Hunk. Pidge decided she liked the two of them. It was strange to her that only the night before last they'd stumbled in front of her horse, pleading for help. A lot had happened since.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Lance bounding to his feet and stripping off to his underwear. He seemed entirely undamaged by the day's events, having quickly bounced back to his energetic self.

"Lance!" reprimanded Shiro.  
"What?" called Lance, sprinting to the pond. "We're all men here and besides, I wanna swim!!"

Hunk got up and did the same, followed by a reluctant Shiro. Soon Pidge was left on the bank, wondering what the hell just happened.

"Coming?" asked Keith. "Maybe you should bathe that wound."  
Pidge unconsciously crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm okay, thanks. I don't know what's in there and I don't want an infection."

Keith shrugged off his cloak, then reached behind his neck and pulled his tunic off. His breeches he kept on, thank the gods, and Pidge couldn't help staring openly at his torso as he ran into the water to join the others.

Lance was in his element, squawking and splashing Hunk, before disappearing for a nerve-rackingly long time to explore the silty lakebed. Hunk looked as though he regretted his decisions. Shiro rubbed his face, then did a few powerful lengths while Keith simply floated, head and toes above the water. Pidge tried not to feel left out, sitting alone in the grass with the horses.

Bleakly, she wondered why she hadn't yet revealed to them that she was a girl. Fear, she supposed. Fear that they'd treat her differently or worse, figure out who she really was. What she could do. It was a grim prospect, and she supposed staying in her unassuming male apothecary role was the best thing to do. Still... lying to Shiro, Hunk, Lance and Keith left a bitter taste in her mouth. Watching the four of them made her realise that they were probably the first friends she'd had since that day a year ago when her life fell apart.  
She frowned, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on crossed arms. It was stupid, getting attached like this. Especially to Keith. They'd eventually find out who she was and reject her, painfully. The reason why was simple: Pidge's real identity stood in opposition to everything the Galra stood for. Everything her four friends had spent their lives training for. Sure, her friends and the Galra weren't exactly seeing eye to eye right now, considering the Galra Empire wanted them dead, but Pidge knew deep down that they still wouldn't accept her for who she was.

Not when who she was had killed thousands of their comrades.

Gritting her teeth, Pidge scowled, resolving to distance herself. She'd get her friends safely to the Wall, but she swore to herself not to get in too deep. It'd only end in tears. It hurt, having to be cold with them, but the inevitable alternative would hurt much, much more.

So when Shiro got out of the water and offered her his hand, she didn't take it. "Let's get moving," she said briskly, getting to her feet and heading to where the horses stood. "We've dawdled far too long already."

Shiro and Keith stared after her, puzzled, but Pidge turned away, busying herself with the tack.

*

That night, Shiro began to scream.

The evening had been peaceful enough. After heading off from the pond glen and riding until sunset, they had made camp in a clearing on an overhang. Pidge sat on the edge of the small cliff, swinging her legs and carefully decanting vinegar as the dusk settled among the mountains.

Lance had set up a windbreaker and Keith built a fire, spreading out the bedrolls around it in a star shape. Hunk was boiling the meat and turnips while Shiro tacked the horses. Pidge wasn't being very helpful and she knew it, but she still thought it would be best to keep her distance. So she busied herself with herbs and bottles, trying not to think. Or feel.

Hunk came over with a bowl of meat and turnip soup and sat there with her, remarking periodically what a nice night it was. Pidge answered noncommittally, grateful for his company but unwilling to get too close. Hunk was so kind and sweet that the self-loathing she'd feel when he found out would crush her.

So she kept quiet, eating her soup and wishing he would leave so she didn't have to force herself not to be friends with him.

"Pidge, you okay?" Hunk asked suddenly, staring into the darkness. "You've been all mopey since earlier. You're not sick, are you?"

Pidge couldn't help it - she crumbled. "I'm okay, Hunk. Thank you." she said sincerely. "I just... I know things will change once we get to the Wall."

Hunk regarded her steadily. "Because you're from the clans?"

Pidge spluttered, choking on her turnip. "You...you...how? K-keith?" was all she could get out, glancing viciously over at the dark-haired Galra.

Hunk shook his head, touching his own clan tattoos. "We saw your tattoo when we were cleaning your injury."

Pidge looked at him, feeling vulnerable. "Keith didn't tell you?" She felt a bit lighter.

"Didn't breathe a word," answered Hunk. "You're Altaidhe, right?"

"Yeah," muttered Pidge. She caught his eye and something unspoken passed between them. There wasn't a shred of pity in Hunk's gaze, just understanding. He must know what had happened to her clan.  
Pidge felt a sudden bolt of fear, wondering if he'd figured out who she was. He couldn't have, they had been a huge clan with dozens of branch families. Still, between Hunk and Shiro she had to be careful. Any of them could realise at any time.

"And... and you don't mind?" Pidge ventured cautiously. "You don't think I'll murder you in your sleep for what the Galra have done?"

Hunk's mouth flattened into a cynical line. "Come on, Pidge, you don't think I haven't figured out that you're a g-"

He was interrupted by a howl from the other side of the clearing. Hunk and Pidge jumped to their feet, alarmed. Shiro had fallen to his knees near the horses and was gripping his right arm, an agonized expression on his face.

Keith was there in an instant, kneeling beside his friend.  
"What is it, Shiro? What's wrong?"

"We'll talk later," Hunk said grimly before they sprinted over.

The rest of the team gathered around warily, afraid for him. Shiro's arm was glowing purple as he clenched and unclenched his fist, screaming through gritted teeth.

"Shiro!" barked Keith urgently, searching his face. Shiro's eyes were unfocused and he was bent forwards in pain, splaying his purple hand. Pidge reflexively reached for her amulets, then stopped her hand halfway.

"My arm..." Shiro gasped, sweat beading on his forehead. "She cursed me."

"What? Who?" demanded Keith, face stricken. Pidge felt a spasm of jealousy deep in her stomach at his obvious concern, then mentally slapped herself. This was not the time.

"The Galra druid," Shiro croaked as his arm pulsed with violet light. "Haggar. When I... was in the cells-"

He broke off as another wave of pain pulsed through his hand. "What can I do, Shiro?" cried Keith, frantic.  
"I don't know," Shiro answered haltingly, gripping his hand hard. "Pour water on it?"

"Lance!" Keith ordered without looking away from Shiro. Lance hurried off to grab a waterskin. Keith gripped Shiro's chin, making the wide-eyed and trembling man look directly into his eyes. "You're going to be fine, Shiro. You're okay."

Pidge stood there, conflicted. She knew a lot about curses and druid spells, but could she reveal that to everyone? What would they say? Her decision to withdraw and her concern for Shiro warred in her mind, but Shiro quickly won.

Pidge dropped to Shiro's side, pushing Keith out of the way, and swiftly pulled Shiro's sleeve up.

His forearm was webbed with blindingly bright arcs of purple, gleaming through the skin like veins. Pidge squinted against the glare, trying to decipher the symbols. Keith was staring at Pidge wide-eyed, as though she was the last person he'd expected to intervene. She forced herself to ignore Keith totally, knowing she couldn't focus if she was paying him the smallest bit of attention.

Pidge was at a loss for a moment with the symbols etched into Shiro's arm and hand. They looked like meaningless scratches. Keith was saying something to her but she didn't hear him, concentrating solely on the marks. She breathed out slowly, deafening herself to Shiro's agonized pants and Keith's urgent voice. Time slowed.

Then something in her mind slid sideways and the words came into focus. She knew these letters - they were an archaic form of her own clan tongue. They were the symbols for 'Find' and 'Show', interlocked into a pattern that stretched from Shiro's wrist to halfway between elbow and shoulder. There was another word on the back of his hand - "Sear'.

Pidge rocked back on her heels. Her best guess was that Haggar the Galra druid woman had placed a tracking curse on Shiro. She had placed a tracker, then let him escape so that he'd lead the Galra to the Northern clans. The symbol 'sear' on the back of his hand was a rare one, and Pidge reckoned it had been an experiment. Haggar had tested turning Shiro's body into a weapon.

If the curse symbols were hurting Shiro, that meant the Galra were tracking them right now. It wouldn't do Shiro any lasting harm, but it meant that the team had to move immediately before the Galra descended on them. Pidge had no idea how much time they had, but she doubted it was more than half an hour before they were attacked. She stood up.

"We have to leave. Now. Shiro's gonna be fine, but we're not because his arm is a tracker and the Galra are coming right this second-"

She stopped. Everyone was staring at her blankly.

"What? We have to go!" Pidge was confused. What was up with everyone? Hunk and Lance exchanged glances and shrugged. Then Hunk said something that Pidge couldn't understand.

Oh. She'd been speaking in the clan tongue. Pidge sighed, realising that she'd focused so hard on Shiro's arm symbols that she'd switched to her native language. It was a conscious effort to speak Galra again, and even then it sounded rough to her ears.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, insides twisting at how freaked out Keith looked. "Accidental. Anyway, what I said is that we have to leave now. Shiro's gonna be okay but the Galra put a tracker on him and they're probably coming for us right now. Or they're waiting for us to lead them to the clans. Either way, it's not good."

"A tracker?" asked Hunk, bemused. "How do you know?"  
"Doesn't matter," Pidge replied. "What matters is what we do now. Do we leave?"

Shiro sat up, helped by Keith. The pain seemed to be ebbing. "We can't move Shiro," he said firmly.  
"I'll be fine-" Shiro began, but Hunk spoke over him. "I'm with Keith. Shiro's not in a good way. Let's have someone take watch and we'll set out in the morning."

Pidge looked around at each of her friends. Shiro was exhausted, sitting hunched on the ground, held by Keith who looked stubbornly up at her. Lance was nodding, standing awkwardly with the waterskin in his hand. Hunk returned her gaze steadily, resolute.

Pidge quickly recognised that there was no arguing. She slumped to the ground, legs crossed, and drew her dagger. "Fine. I'll take first watch."

Lance and Hunk draped a blanket around Shiro, which he initially refused but was stubbornly threatened into taking. Lance got him some meat/turnip stew and sat him by the fire, chatting to him brightly the whole time.

Pidge smiled, drawing her own cloak closer around her. Lance didn't show it easily, but he really was kind. At least, underneath that whole flirty bravado thing he did. Keith was the same - he acted surly and standoffish, but when it came down to it he was the one kneeling beside Shiro in desperation, or binding Pidge's wounds, or racing Lance.

Shiro and Hunk were the opposite - they were obviously considerate and kind, but both had a steely, gritty side to them that reared its head sometimes. The intense, almost suspicious glint in Hunk's eye from their conversation moments ago was testament to that. Hunk was the type of person to know more than he let on, and thinking about it now Pidge was certain he had copped on that she was female. She'd have to confront him tomorrow.

The others eventually crawled into their bedrolls around the fire. Pidge stayed up, watching the patterns that the firelight made on the bronze of her dagger.

It was a clear night and she could see the stars. She knew them all, and remembered nights spent outside the longhouse as Matt taught her how to navigate, and what the constellations were called. She missed her brother so much it was like a constant ache.

Matt had always loved to see the aurora borealis on winter nights. Feeling lonely and heartsore, Pidge impulsively gripped an amulet and mentally shouted the clan word for the northern lights. Soon wreaths of green and rose were shimmering above her, despite it only being autumn.

It was beautiful, arching and swooping above her, reaching out like the branches of a ghostly tree. The familiar stars twinkled through the rosy veil, and Pidge could hear Matt pointing them out to her.

_

_"See those three stars in a row?" Maitiú asked, squinting up at the sky. He couldn't have been more than ten, but he knew everything there as to know about the night sky._

_Cáitín nodded, spotting them easily._

_"That's the Hunter's belt. He only hunts in winter and runs across the night sky chasing deer."_

_"Like Dad does?"_

_"Just like Dad does. Except the Hunter never gets to come home. He just stays up in the sky, constantly searching. Dad told me that when hunters die they join his hunt."_

_"That's sad!" Cáitín protested._

_Maitiú shrugged, and pointed to another one. "See that, Cáitín? That's the Plough. The best constellation in the sky. If you draw a line between those two stars and keep going, you get the North Star. If you ever get lost, follow that. It'll bring you home."_

_

Pidge gazed bleakly up at the North Star, not realising her cheeks were wet until the sight became blurred. She didn't bother wiping them away. The aurora kept dancing in the sky, shimmering between the mountain peaks in the distance. Pidge couldn't see it anymore as tears dripped off her chin, landing with a splash on her dagger.

Lost in her memories, Pidge didn't see or hear Keith wake up until it was too late. He stirred and sat up, quickly grasping that Pidge wasn't okay. Pidge sniffed angrily and wiped her tears away with her sleeve.

Keith sat in his bedroll, staring dumbfounded at the aurora. Pidge could see it reflected in his eyes. Then Keith shuffled closer to Pidge so that their shoulders were touching. Pidge gripped the material of her cloak tightly, rubbing at the tears that kept leaking out of the corner of her eyes.

"I've never seen it before," Keith said softly, his dark eyes wide. "It's beautiful."  
Pidge ground the heel of her hand into her eye, trying to control herself. She didn't look at him, because he was beautiful too, and Pidge couldn't stop crying no matter how hard she tried.

They sat like that for a long time, watching the translucent green veils hang in the sky. Pidge felt exhaustion washing over her from the crying, but couldn't bring herself to move. Keith was blessedly silent, thinking his own thoughts, and in the quiet Pidge's eyes got heavy.

No. She couldn't fall asleep. Not next to Keith, and not while it was her watch.  
She fought it, but she was too drowsy. The kind of drowsy where nothing matters anymore except the warmth she was cocooned in.

Infrequent attempts at waking herself up were futile, and before long she dimly felt her head loll sideways onto Keith's shoulder.

And, although she was too tired to be sure, she could have sworn his head came to rest on hers too.

 

*****

 

As the next day wore on, Pidge found it impossible not to notice Keith.

Her mind was always on Matt and how likely it was that she'd find him, but her eyes kept straying back to the swordsman, who was now flanking the harrowed Shiro at the head of the group.

She'd woken up in her bedroll, unsure what had or hadn't been a dream. She was 90% sure that sleeping on Keith's shoulder and summoning the aurora borealis hadn't actually happened.

The 10% came from Keith studiously avoiding her eyes and from the old, familiar pain in her head from whenever she overexerted her magic. But hey, if she barely remembered it there was a chance that he didn't either.

Pidge, for her part, rode between Lance and Hunk, listening to their conversation. Even though the group was tense and quiet after last night, they still managed to talk about ridiculous - and highly entertaining - subjects.

"I wonder if there are any babes beyond the wall," said Lance, stroking his chin. "I'll burst into their cold, lonely lives and give 'em the 'ol razzle dazzle."

"The what?" asked Pidge, not having heard the phrase before.

"You know... razzle dazzle, the skinny, the 'ol one-two," explained Lance. "Flirting."

"None of those words mean the same thing," Hunk pointed out.

"You know what I mean," continued Lance. "Who knows what's beyond the Wall? There could be mermaids for all we know."

Pidge smirked. "I've been beyond the Wall and trust me, there are no mermaids. Just mountains, tundra and people who hate the Galra."

"'Course you've been beyond the Wall," Lance threw up his hands. "Mysterious Pidge, the secretive apothecary who has never told anyone anything ever." He poked her in the ribs.

Surprised, Pidge laughed aloud - and Keith glanced back. Their eyes met briefly for the first time since last night. Keith smiled a little bit, his lips curving quickly, his gaze soft - then he turned back and said something to Shiro.  
Pidge sat stiffly, feeling horribly mushy inside.  
All he'd done was smile at her and she felt all stupid. She needed to get a hold of herself.

Lance was still talking heedlessly. "Seriously, though, what do we know about you, Pidge? I know everything about Hunk from living with him in the Garrison. Hates heights, delicate stomach, photographic memory, bakes when he's stressed. I know Shiro and his angsty friend, obviously, though with mullet man I wish I didn't. Tell us about yourself, O guide extraordinaire."

Pidge, taken aback, considered how she would reply. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

The silence stretched on.

"Lance-" began Hunk, trying to save her like the angel he was, but was interrupted by an arrow whizzing past his face.

"Get down!" Shiro yelled, and Pidge leaned close to Greenie's saddle, craning her neck to see what was going on. Another arrow grazed her rucksack and thrummed into a nearby tree. "Ambush!" shouted Keith, drawing his bronze sword. Pidge grabbed the hilt of her dagger and Lance reached for his quiver, just as three shadowy figures stepped out from the trees and a fourth moved in the tall grass on the hillside.

Hunk deflected an arrow off his shield and guarded Lance as he aimed at the ambushers. They were Galra, that much was obvious.

Keith slipped off Red and ran to attack them as they spread out, and Pidge, without knowing what she was doing, leapt off Greenie and sprinted after him.  
"Keith! Pidge!" called Shiro desperately, trying to control his rearing horse.

Keith started trading blows and parries with one Galra soldier while Pidge faced off with the second one. The third was closing in on her too, but Lance felled him with an arrow and started shooting at the fourth, the archer in the grass. Keith defeated his opponent and turned towards Pidge where she fought with hers. Behind her Shiro screamed, but she couldn't see what was happening because the Galra soldier was attacking hard and fast.

Pidge just about managed to deflect his strikes, twisting under his range and dodging. More than once Keith blocked a blow that would have killed Pidge.

Then five more Galra stepped out of the trees. Keith, trying to find an opening to attack Pidge's opponent, didn't see them. One lunged for him and time, for Pidge, seemed to slow as she watched the sword-tip move towards Keith's unprotected back.

Afterwards, Pidge could never fully remember what happened next. One moment she was screaming Keith's name in warning, unable to get there in time to save him. For weeks to come she would replay that moment in her mind - Keith on the edge of a brutal death.

She watched the glinting blade close the distance to Keith's spine and felt her hand close around a talisman so roughly that it snapped off its string.

The next thing she was aware of was smoke, lots of it, filling her eyes, her nose, her throat. Disorientated, Pidge looked around to look for Keith, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, all she could see were deep orange flames leaping from tree to tree quicker than she could have though possible.

"Keith! Keith!" she yelled, then broke off coughing. "Lance? Hunk?"  
It was no use. She couldn't hear anything over the roar of devouring fire.

Pidge was alone in the forest, and it was burning.

Fast.


End file.
